


Crit Happens

by SterlingAg



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bakery, Coffee Shops, Coming of Age, Crossover, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, F/M, Fantasy, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Just a bunch of different people all coming together to play D&D, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, everyone has a story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterlingAg/pseuds/SterlingAg
Summary: You see a table. Around you are a handful of people you would recognize in a story, but not if you saw them in the supermarket. You know their names--Allura, Lance, Keith, Pidge, Hunk, and Shiro--but you don't know their stories. They begin their story with a sheet of paper and a 20-sided die. Do you choose to join them on their adventure?(or the one where Coran DMs once a week for an unlikely group.)





	1. A Messenger Arrives

_To a party of seasoned adventurers such as yourselves, what you see is but another dull tavern in another dull town in some nameless province. It is but another span of time between the challenges of true adventuring._

_Outside the tavern, a fog lies over the town this evening. The damp, cobbled pavement glistens as the lights of street lanterns dance across the slick stones. The fog chills the bones and shivers the soul of anyone outside._

_Yet inside these tavern walls the food is hearty, and the ale is warm and frothy. A fire blazes in the hearth, and the tavern is alive with the tumbling voices of country folk._

There’s a soft lilting of flute that cuts through the tavern air. It mingles easily with the conversation going on throughout. The sound comes from a dark-skinned human sitting on the edge of the makeshift stage. Her curly hair is halfway pinned behind her head to keep it out of her face as she plays. The rest of it falls easily down behind her shoulders. A flower has found its way into her hair, despite being in the middle of such a dreary area. She presses her lips reverently to the mouthpiece of the flute and coaxes a gentle tune from it. There’s a small satchel in front of her that a few people have tossed coins into. Not many, a couple silvers and a few gold pieces. Well, it wasn’t really the night for this anyway. They’ve already secured lodging and food thanks to her performance earlier. Now things were starting to wind down for the evening.

She sighed and wrapped her flute carefully before storing it in a pack strapped to her side. She moved over to the table where the rest of her party sat. Kairon was absent, which wasn’t unusual. She glanced around for the tiefling briefly before realizing that if he wanted to be seen, he would be.

“Was that a new tune?” Aseir asked as she sat. He was a stout fellow. A human like her, but from a very different origin. Where she came from the islands and the coast, Aseir hailed from deep within the forests. He’d been a part of an extremely recluse group of monks, protectors of the land and keepers of certain secrets. He only shared some of those with the group in order to keep them safe. Some of the things he had said seemed more fire and brimstone than fact. But no one ever asked further about the object that Aseir alluded to being the center of his order’s protection.

She nodded. “I’ve been working on it here and there.”

“I don’t know where you find the time to compose, Tessele.” Aseir shook his head. “I mean, look at Wrenn. He was so excited when we bunked down for the night.”

Tessele followed his gesture. At the table next to them, their tinker was hunched over something. It was small and mechanical. Tessele couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Mostly the object was in what Wrenn liked to call “play phase” where he would mess around with a general idea in his head to see if he could make it work. His small gnomish hands made quick work of the thing. He kept holding it up to the light and turning it this way and that to inspect it in the tavern’s low lighting. He grumbled something, tightened a screw, and scribbled notes down in his leather-bound notebook.

“How long’s he been working on that one?”

“Honestly since we sat down.” Aseir sighed. “Scooted over there and hasn’t come back out of his head since.”

Tessele couldn’t help her small laugh. “We’ve all got our vices.”

“Speaking of—“ Aseir sent a worried glance to the bar.

The last two members of their party were lounged at the bar. Merric leaned against the bar, his metal arm contrasting with the seasoned wood. He sat on a stool while his companion stood. Valtyra nodded to whatever he’d said and began her own line of conversation. Tessele noticed the nearly empty glass of ale in Merric’s hand.

“Any idea how many?” she asked softly.

“That’s number three.” He licked his lips, a nervous habit. “I think we cut him off after one more.”

Tessele tried to do the math in her head of how long they’d been at the tavern. They’d found it a little before sundown and now the sky outside the windows were an inky black. It wasn’t the navy of night that Tessele was used to and she had this sinking feeling they were being watched. She glanced around but couldn’t find much of a source. No one was taking any particular interest in their group. A few recognized her as being the performer from earlier, but no lingering looks.

“I think that’s fair.” she agreed. When she looked up next, Valtyra and Merric were moving to join them. He had a fresh glass of ale and Valtyra had a small crystal glass of amber-colored liquid in her hand as well. Merric pulled himself up into the seat, his chain mail clanking as he did so. When he was comfortably seated, his feet didn’t reach the ground. Valtyra gracefully lowered her form into the seat between him and Aseir. Wrenn too seemed to have found a stopping point on his tinkering and joined them at the table.

“Anything good?” Merric asked, nodding to Wrenn.

Wrenn let out a frustrated breath. “It’s getting there. I just need to figure out how to facilitate the torque on the parts to make sure—“

Tessele tuned out the rest of the conversation. Her mind wandered to the composition and changed a few scale runs in her head to try out for next time. As she was thinking, a glass of wine was sat down before her. Startled, she looked up as a half-elf boy sat down next to her. His green eyes scanned the room quickly. His dark black hair was mussed and his brown leathers creaked as he sat. It was a disguise that Tessele was used to, but something was off about it. She realized what it was instantly—the scar on the right side of his face had been left undoctored. Usually when Kairon changed his appearance he hid it along with the red hue of his skin, black sclera, and horns that twisted back across the crown of his head.

“Kairon?” Tessele asked softly, moving her hand to touch his.

He met her eyes only briefly. “We’ve got company.”

“What—“

_Suddenly, the tavern door swings open, and a hush falls over the room. Framed by the lamp-lit fog, a form strides through the doorway. His heavy, booted footfalls and the jingle of his coins shatter the silence. His brightly colored clothes are draped in loose folds about him, and his hat hangs askew, hiding his eyes in shadows. Without hesitation, he walks up to your table and stands proudly in a wide stance with folded arms._

_“I have been sent to you to deliver this message. If you be creatures of honor, you will come to my master’s aid at first light. It is not advisable to travel the Svalich Woods at night!”_

_He pulls from his tunic a sealed letter, addressed to all of you in beautiful flowing script. He drops the letter on the table._

Valtyra frowned and picked up the letter. She inspected the seal on it, running her hands over the stylized raven. It hung in flight, wings outstretched over what appeared to be the silhouette of a castle.

Kairon gave a critical look at the man.

“Your name, messenger?” he asked.

The gypsy gave a grin and bowed. “I am called Arrigal.”

“And your master?”

“Why, the most noble Burgomaster Kolyan Indirovich.”

Kairon’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. His lips tightened in a way that Tessele knew meant he had a hunch, but couldn’t back it up. She took her time looking at Arrigal. She noted his colorful clothing, but other than that there wasn’t much to read him by. He was difficult to perceive and his smile constant and unnerving.

“I’m afraid I don’t recognize this crest. Where does your master hail from?” Valtyra asked, looking up from the letter.

“Barovia, my lady.” He gave her a more formal bow. The entire group startled, looking from the messenger to Valtyra. They had taken great pains to keep Valtyra’s royal lineage hidden. She quickly moved her gaze back down to the letter, her hands shaking gently.

Merric cleared his throat, finishing off his drink. It clattered loudly against the table.

“What does your master require of us?”

“He has assured me that all you need to know is sealed in that letter.”

“And if we refuse?”

Arrigal didn’t even stutter. He nodded his head. “Then we shall look for help elsewhere.”

Merric stared at him for a moment longer then nodded. “Where will we find this Barovia?”

“Take the west road from here some five hours march down through the Svalich Woods.”

“You said that we shouldn’t travel those woods at night.” Wrenn piped in. “Should we not take our chances and go now?”

“No.” Arrigal shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s far too dangerous. The time made up would be wasted should you suffer any losses.”

They all looked at each other. Aseir’s brow was furrowed. Valtyra had visibly deflated and was nervously fingering at the letter. Kairon never once took his eyes off the messenger. Tessele could tell that Wrenn was making mental notes of the situation and Arrigal.

“We’ll consider your offer.” Tessele said. She turned a smile on the man. “Where can we call after you?”

“I’m afraid that I must be off. I have more errands for my master before I return. I hope to see you in Barovia.”

_Amid the silent stares of the patronage, the gypsy strides to the bar and says to the wary barkeep, “Fill the glasses, one and all. Their throats are obviously parched.”_

_He drops a purse heavy with gold on the bar. With that, he leaves._

_The babble of tavern voices resumes, although somewhat subdued._

“Should we—?” Tessele motioned to the letter.

“Not here.” Kairon growled. “Too many ears.”

“I agree. Let’s retire for the evening.” Merric slid from his seat. “We’ll open it in our room.”

Kairon nodded and stood. The remaining members also stood and began to file up the stairs towards the rooms above. Tessele looked out the window, but the sound of horse hooves had faded.

——————

“Here ya go, pass this around.” Coran said, pulling a sheet of paper from his pile of notes behind the screen. Allura took it, sitting closest to him at the table.

“I don’t like this guy.” Keith grumbled. He had crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, maybe you should have rolled a higher insight.” Pidge joked.

Keith’s face twisted into a pout. He clicked his tongue in agitation and settled deeper into his chair.

“If it makes you feel any better, Keithy boy,” Coran chuckled. “You would have needed at least 15 to even get close to getting anything from him.”

Lance laughed. “Okay okay, what does the letter say?”

“Oh, do you want—“ Allura started to pass the paper around.

“Just read it out loud!” Hunk shouted from the kitchen. He’d gotten up to get another drink and find some snacks.

“Yeah, that should be fine. I assume all the characters read it anyway?” Shiro added. He was writing notes in his small journal he used during the sessions.

“All right.” Allura cleared her throat and held the paper out in front of her.

 

> _Hail to thee of might and valor,_
> 
>  
> 
> _I, a lowly servant of Barovia, lend honor to thee. We plead for thee to desperately needed assistance._
> 
> _The love of my life, Ireena Kolyana, has been afflicted by an evil so deadly that even the good people of our village cannot protect her. She languishes from her wound, and I would have her saved from this menace._
> 
> _There is much wealth in this community. I offer all that might be had to thee and they fellows if thou shalt but answer my desperate plea._
> 
> _Come quickly, for her time is at hand! All that I have shall be thine!_
> 
>  
> 
> _Kolyan Indirovich_   
>  _Burgomaster_

 

“I mean it ticks all the right boxes.” Pidge said.

“Can I see if this is fake or anything?” Lance asked.

“Uh, sure. Roll an investigation check.” Coran nodded.

“Okay, that’s—“ Lance grabbed his purple die, the golden numbers glinting in the apartment’s light. It thudded dully against the felt covered dice tray. “That’s an eight plus—it’s ten total.”

“You look over the letter. It seems to be genuine. Made on really nice, thick parchment. The ink is pungent and dark, which makes you think that it’s quality stuff there.”

Lance shrugged and looked at the rest of the group. “It’s a letter, guys. I say we go.”

“What?” Keith sat up in his chair. “No way! That was the most sketch thing—“

“C’mon! It’s not like we’re doing anything else right now.”

“I agree with Lance. Besides, sounds like there’s gonna be lots of gold.” Pidge waggled their eyebrows.

“I don’t know.” Hunk returned and set a few water bottles in the middle of the table. He handed one to Coran who thanked him. “It seems really dangerous.”

“I turn to Valtyra and hold out my hand—can I see that?” Shiro said, lowering his voice when talking as his character.

“Oh, yes of course—I had the letter to Merric.” Allura drank from her water.

“I’ll cast _Detect Magic_ on the letter.”

“Okay, and what exactly does _Detect Magic_ tell you?” Coran asked, reaching for his player’s manual and flipping to the back.

“It uh—“ Shiro flipped to his spell cards in his binder. “For the duration, you sense the presence of magic within 30 feet of you. If you sense magic in this way—you see a faint aura around any visible creature or object in the area that bears magic, and you learn its school of magic, if any.”

“All right. Go ahead and mark off a spell slot. You don’t detect anything magical that you aren’t used to. The letter doesn’t seem to be charmed or magical in any way. It’s a letter.”

Shiro turned to the group and mimicked Lance’s earlier shrug. “It’s a letter.”

“So the facts are—“ Lance began counting on his fingers. “We’ve been summoned to Barovia. We don’t know the sender. We couldn’t say anything bad about the messenger. Couldn’t say anything good about him either. The Svalich Woods are too dangerous to travel at night. And that we don’t have anything else to do.”

“Right.” Pidge nodded their head. “Let’s take a vote then. All against?”

Hunk and Keith raised their hands.

“All for?”

Pidge, Lance, and Shiro raised their hands.

Shiro turned his gaze to Allura. She was still staring at the letter in her hand. “And your vote?” he asked.

“I want to know how much Arrigal knows about Valtyra’s past. Maybe someone in Barovia knows more about—“ her voice trailed off. “I vote we go.”

Keith cursed under his breath and angrily grabbed a water bottle.

——————

“Then we’ll rest for the night and head out in the morning.” Merric said, looking around the group.

Kairon was leaning against the wall by the door. He had his arms over his chest and a particularly sour look on his face.

“All right Kairon?”

“It’s a bad idea.” he mumbled, not meeting Merric’s eyes.

“We’ll be okay. We’ve gotten out of harder things before.” Tessele said. She moved over and bumped Kairon’s shoulder playfully. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

He glared at her. “It won’t be.” Then he moved around her to push out the door.

“Kairon—!” She moved to go after him.

“Let him be Tessele.” Valtyra said softly. “He’s just worried.”

Tessele frowned. “I know.”

“Regardless, it’s going to be a long day tomorrow. We should all get our rest.” Merric said, beginning to take off his armor.

“That guy said it was a five hour journey on foot right?” Wrenn asked with a yawn. “That’s gonna suck.”

“Yeah, let’s get to bed.” Aseir nodded, voicing the exhaustion they all felt. “See you guys at breakfast.”

Aseir and Wrenn said their goodnights and exited the room. Tessele waited a moment longer for Valtyra since they would share a room. She rose from the bed and moved to help Merric take his armor off. He smiled at the taller elf, fondness sparkling in his eyes.

“Thank you, dear.” he whispered.

She returned his smile and bent down to kiss his forehead. “Sleep well, dearest.”

Tessele looked away, trying to blend into the wall. Valtyra exited the room and held the door open for Tessele. The two girls moved down the hallway to the door at the very end. Tessele paused in the hallway for a second. She thought she saw the ghost of Kairon’s shoulder at the end of the hall. But it disappeared as soon as she spotted it.

“Tessele?” Valtyra called from inside. She shook her head and walked in, locking the door behind her.

——————

“And with that, you all hunker down for bed. The night passes and you all sleep peacefully. Well, except for you Kairon.” Coran turned his head to Keith.

“You are met with visions of smoke, never-ending black tendrils of pitch black fog. A voice lingers in your ears, like a whisper of a memory. You can’t make out what it’s saying. It’s a female voice and she’s—crying? You aren’t sure. Each step that you take towards the sound sends you into darkness. There’s a break in the fog and you now see your reflection in the water beneath you. Your footsteps don’t disturb the surface and it’s like you’re walking on a mirror.”

Keith swallowed hard and sat up in his seat. Everyone’s eyes glanced between Coran and Keith.

“Creepy,” Lance breathed.

Coran cleared his throat. “You walk for what seems like hours. Although it could have been a few minutes, maybe a couple days. When finally, out of the smoke, you see a figure. The space between you closes in an instant and you can make out the fine fibers of his clothes. Dark hair falls down his back in a jet black waterfall. He chuckles and it’s this deep, rich sound that fills your entire body with dread. It sucks the air from your lungs and you’re choking. You can’t get a breath through your lips. Grasping at your neck there’s a rope tied tightly there. The man before you turns around and right as his face comes in to view, the floor falls out from under you.”

A cold sweat crept down Keith’s back. He rubbed at his arms.

“When you wake, you feel restless. You don’t take a point of exhaustion but you only recover one hit die. Everyone else has an uneventful night. Is there anything you want to do before you head out for the day?”

“We should stock up on potions.” Pidge said, looking through their inventory sheet. “We used a bunch in the ogre's den didn’t we?”

“Yeah, I’ve only got a couple regulars and one greater.” Hunk nodded.

“Okay. Do we see a store anywhere?” Allura asked.

Coran waved his hand. “Roll an investigation check.”

“Investigation not perception?” She grabbed her marbled orange die in her hand and shook it.

“Yeah because you’re actively trying to find something, so it’s an investigation check.”

“Okay.” Her die clattered against the wall of the dice tray and she leaned over to see it. “That’s cocked.” She picked it up and rolled again. “Oh! Nat twenty!”

Shiro leaned over and smirked. “Sure is.”

“It takes you about ten minutes before you get to a shop that has a few—eccentricities in the window. It looks like this place is going to be your best bet for anything of arcane nature in this small waypoint town.” Coran shuffled some papers around in front of him.

——————

Lance yawned loudly, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. Despite being mid-September, cooler temperatures were blowing into the greater Los Angeles area. He snuggled deeper into it in hopes that it would break some of the wind coming off the bay.

“Sorry,” Allura said as the rest filed out behind him. “I didn’t expect shopping to take an hour.”

“It needed to happen.” Shiro put his hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah, we were running low on potions anyway.” Pidge shrugged their jacket on, stifling a yawn.

Keith was the last to come out of Coran’s apartment building. Lance noticed he didn’t have his helmet.

“You didn’t drive tonight?” He asked.

“Huh?” Keith looked up at Lance. “Oh, yeah, Red’s in the shop.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?” Hunk popped in. “I coulda looked at her—or had the guys give her a once over. Probably be five times cheaper than wherever you’ve got her now.”

A brief flicker of surprise came over Keith’s face. “I didn’t know that.”

“Sure! C’mon—“ Hunk clapped Keith hard on the back, making him stumble slightly. “What good is having a mechanic for a friend if he doesn’t even offer to check out your ride?”

Keith seemed to have short circuited, at least if how he kept opening and closing his mouth without saying anything was any indication. Shiro laughed and finally took pity on him.

“Thanks Hunk. We’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“You better. Here, let me put the garage’s contact info in your phone.” He reached out towards Keith who struggled to pull his phone from his jacket pocket.

“Okay,” Hunk explained as Keith watched him enter the numbers into his phone. “This is the main line. You’re gonna wanna ask for Harrison. He’s my supervisor but also has the most experience with sports bikes and motorcycles in the shop. He used to race them a few years back actually.”

Keith nodded and accepted his phone when Hunk handed it back. There was a spark of interest that lit in Keith’s eyes that Shiro caught.

“No. No racing.” He said sternly. “You promised me you wouldn’t.”

“I won’t.” Keith grumbled, but his thumb moved idly over the edge of his phone like he was still considering something.

Shiro gave him a pointed look. He didn’t press further though, instead turning to Allura. “We’d best be off.”

She nodded. “Good session this week everyone. I’m looking forward to this new campaign.”

Everyone said some kind of agreement before splitting off. Shiro gave Allura a quick kiss to the cheek which she beamed at. Keith rolled his eyes and started walking to where Shiro’s car was parked.

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk broke off to go towards Hunk’s Jeep. Her name was the Balmera and Hunk had had that car since he was 16. He’d built the engine himself—with a little help from his dad here and there. It hauled both him and Lance to Pasadena when they moved south from Sacramento. There was a characteristic clunking in the front axle, but Hunk always said it was nothing to worry about.

Pidge slid into the backseat, laying down immediately. They grabbed the emergency blanket from the back before getting comfortable. The fuzzy fleece penguins covered them completely and only a tuft of their hair poked out from the top. Lance pulled himself up into the passenger seat as Hunk did the same in the driver’s.

“So what do you think?” Hunk asked, turning the key in the ignition. The Balmera roared to life then purred as she idled. Hunk turned the heat up slightly and Lance was silently glad they’d put the doors back on her last week.

“Should be fun.” Lance nodded. “I think Coran’s finally getting into a horror campaign setting. I’ve spotted his planning stuff a few times at the shop.”

“No cheating, okay Lance?”

Lance scoffed. “Me? Cheat? Why, I would never!”

He laughed when he spotted the disbelief on Hunk’s face. He gave him a sly grin and settled into his seat, hunching further into his coat.

“I’ll keep it fair. As long as you don’t metagame.”

“I don’t metagame!” Hunk said incredulously.

“You practically are the fourth wall you break it so often.” Pidge said from the backseat.

Hunk huffed and shifted into reverse in silence. Lance laughed to himself and turned to look out the window. It was about a 30 minute drive back to their apartment in Pasadena without any traffic. It was late enough that maybe some of the roads had cleared out a bit. Although it was always busy around campus where they dropped Pidge off in student housing. So it took nearly an hour for Lance and Hunk to get back to their apartment.

Shay, Hunk’s long-term girlfriend, was already in bed by then. She had an 8am shift at the lab in the morning. From what Lance could make of recent conversations, her research was starting to come to a head. There was a plate of snacks wrapped up on the table with a small note.

_For my brave dragon slayers_

Lance grabbed a couple of the chunks of cheese from the plate. He munched on them as he toed off his shoes.

“You’ve got work tomorrow?” Lance asked, putting his jacket on the peg near the door.

“Yeah, after class.” Hunk took a few slices of the meat and put them on crackers. The soft crunch of the cracker filled the mostly silent room.

“I’ll probably miss you then.”

“Why?”

“I’m helping out at one of Coran’s events tomorrow night.”

“Yikes, have fun with that.” Hunk said with a grimace.

“It’ll pay well.” He said with a shrug.

“You’ve still got your shift in the morning too?”

“Yessir.”

“It’s already one in the morning.”

Lance waved him off and moved towards his bedroom. “I’m gonna take a quick shower then be out like a light.”

“All right, but don’t overwork yourself okay? I’m sure Coran would give you Wednesday mornings off.”

“It’s fine. I get weekends.”

“Lance.” Hunk’s voice stopped Lance in his tracks. It was the genuine concern that made him turn around to face his friend.

Hunk was frowning. “You don’t have to work yourself to death you know.”

They stood there for a moment. Lance curled his hand around the knob to the hallway bathroom. His fingers danced idly and nervously on the cool surface. He forced a small grin.

“Thanks buddy. I know.”

Hunk sighed and grabbed a few more pieces of meat. He double checked that the front door was locked then headed into his own bedroom. Lance listened to the soft sound of a light conversation before ducking into the restroom.

He checked his phone and found a few text messages waiting. They were in the group chat from their D&D party. Everyone just sounding off that they returned home safely. It was a habit that Allura had gotten them all into. Their games could easily run into the late hours of the evening so she made them promise to text her when they reached their destinations. Lance sent off a quick emoji of a house then jumped into as hot of a shower as his skin would allow him.


	2. Amidst the Fog

Lance straightened his sleeves and adjusted his bowtie.He walked into the AT&T Center building. His footsteps melded into the staccato beat of other people walking through the main lobby. He wove between the foot traffic to make his way to the receptionist sitting at the desk. Her smile was easy, but rehearsed when he approached.

 

“Hello. How can I help you this afternoon?” She asked, voice going up two octaves into what Lance identified as the “Customer Voice.”

 

He returned her smile and leaned onto the counter. “I’m working the charity event this evening. I was told to check in at the front desk.”

 

“Name?” She moved to her right and began flipping through a three-ring binder. 

 

“McClain, Lance.” 

 

She scrolled through the names then checked something off. She reached over and grabbed a badge with a clip. Her smile became tight as she realized their interaction would soon end. A relief, Lance recognized.

 

“Here’s your badge. Make sure it’s visible if you leave the event space. You’ll want this elevator—“ she pointed with her other hand to an elevator off to the left of the lobby. “It’s the SKYstudio button. 30th floor. You aren’t afraid of heights, are you Mr. McClain?” She asked with false niceties. 

 

He took the badge and saluted her with it. “Thanks for the help, Shawna. Have a good rest of your day.”

 

She seemed surprised that he’d used her name. It was on a nameplate at the top of the counter—apparently not too many people took notice of it. Her expression warmed the slightest bit and she nodded to him.

 

“You too.”

 

With that, he walked to the elevator she’d gestured to. He pressed the up button and waited for the elevator to be called. It arrived with a chime and he stepped into the gold-mirror plated box. There were only a few buttons on the board. The topmost one was labeled “SKYstudio” so he pressed it. As he waited, the music was a soft instrumental that Lance didn’t recognize.

 

The doors opened to the floor’s main entrance. The event space was getting finishing touches put on. Soft creme silks were stretched across the ceiling, softening the space without obscuring any of the view. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city of Los Angeles.The first guests would arrive just as the sun would begin to set. Lance looked around and spotted Coran directing some decorators.

 

“Those go over there, and make sure the arrangements are every other table!” He looked up, mouth twisted in a satisfied grin.

 

“Ah! Lance my boy! So glad you could make it!”

 

Lance smiled and let himself be wrapped in the hug Coran gave him. “Thanks for letting me know about it.”

 

“Of course! I was once a young lad struggling to make my way in the world. Think of this not as a serving job that will likely leave your feet throbbing at the end of the night. Oh, no, it’s so muchmore than that! It’s possible you’ll spill wine all over yourself as well!”

 

Lance’s laugh was nervous. He gave an uncertain grin to Coran who waved his hand as if dispelling the unpleasant thought.

 

“It’s also a chance for you to make connections.” Coran pinned him with a steady look. “There are going to be a lot of influential people here tonight. It might be good to pull yourself off the wall every now and then, little fly of mine.”

 

“Thanks Coran.” He tilted his head and his expression softened in sincerity. 

 

The elder gave him a grin and nodded. “Good, right, yes. Go on then. You’ll need to put on your vest and apron. They’ll be briefing the wait staff in about half an hour. So get yourself ready for a glamorous evening!”

 

Then Coran swept off to deal with this and that of setting up the event. He disappeared quickly from Lance’s view. Lance glanced around and ended up finding the back room where the rest of the staff waited. They were chatting amongst each other or helping with the prep work of the service. An older man waved Lance over and ushered him into a storage closet. There were rows of champagne colored vests and ivory aprons hung along one of the walls. Lance grabbed a vest that fit him best—the older man cinched it tight enough to force Lance to suck in a harsh breath.

 

Lance was tying his apron around his waist when the door opened again. 

 

“Tessele?” 

 

Frowning, Lance turned around. He stared at Keith who was now standing in the doorway then he doubled over in laughter.

 

“Dude! You do know that’s not my actual name right?”

 

Keith’s face erupted in a blush. The grumpiness returned to his brow before he looked away. He busied himself with searching the racks for the right size vest.

 

“Of course I do. I was just—“ He cut himself off and pulled a vest from the hanger. 

 

“Thinking about me?”

 

“No.” Keith punched his arms through the holes and buttoned the front of the vest. “I was thinking about the game.”

 

Lance eyed him skeptically. He shoved his tongue into his cheek to keep his laughter from bubbling out again. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“Working, obviously.” Lance gestured to himself as he finished tying his apron on. He moved behind Keith and worked the buckles on the straps of the vest. He pulled them taut and was pleased with the gasp of breath he pulled from Keith.

 

“Gotta look sharp.” He laughed.

 

Keith glared at him but it didn’t have its usual heat. “Thanks.”

 

“Sure.” Lance handed across an apron which Keith quickly tied around himself. Both pulled at their sleeves. Keith straightened his tie and smoothed it underneath the vest. 

 

“Boys.” The elder man stuck his head in once more. “Debriefing in the kitchen. Let’s go. Guests are already starting to arrive.”

 

They both followed after the man and made their way into the kitchen. They blended into the rear group of servers, all identically dressed in champagne vests and aprons. 

 

Lance leaned into Keith’s space. “You here to work?”

 

“Obviously.” Keith whispered back. He didn’t move away from Lance. “Plus, I had to drop Shiro off anyway.”

 

“Shiro’s here?”

 

Keith glanced at Lance then turned his attention back to the woman speaking at the front. “He’s Allura’s plus one.”

 

Lance nodded, his mouth a little understanding “o.” 

 

Everyone was dismissed to their sections. Keith and Lance were in different serving groups. They grabbed their first trays of champagne and moved in an organized line out onto the event floor. 

 

Lance tried to keep his mouth from dropping. In the short span of half an hour, the space had totally transformed. The lights were lowered, making the room feel warm and intimate. The decor was done in black and golds which made it feel extravagant. Those large silks Lance noticed when he first came in were softly lit with yellow light and he realized they were actually some kind of sparkling fabric. If he didn’t know better, Lance would have thought he’d been transported back into the 20’s. 

 

Guests draped in all manners of silk moved around him. He smiled and nodded when people stopped him to grab a glass from his tray. Some were faces he recognized from the news—publishing house owners, media figureheads, even a few politicians were scattered throughout the crowd.

 

He was trying not to admire the elegant gold script of the nameplates on a table when a hand gently laid across his wrist. Lance startled and nearly dropped the tray, but he stiffened just in time not to lose balance on it. He looked up into the warm eyes of Allura. She was smiling softly.

 

“I didn’t mean to startle you. You didn’t answer when I called out.” She said.

 

“Oh, sorry I was—“

 

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand—of which Lance noted had a short ivory lace glove on. 

 

“Coran’s really gone all out with this one, I’ll have to admit.” She turned her head a bit and gazed about. “He’s always been enamored with the feeling of the 1920’s. Plus this charity is incredibly important to him.”

 

“It’s gorgeous.” Lance said. 

 

“True. Not to mention you look quite handsome in champagne, darling.” 

 

He flashed a grin at Allura. “It must be the caramel skin. Although you’re always beautiful, tonight you’re positively radiant.”

 

Her smile turned embarrassed. She wore an A-line gown that flowed elegantly to the floor. The top of the dress was a sweetheart that turned into a high-neck illusion top. Small appliqué in the thin fabric were in the shapes of flowers that cascaded into long, open sleeves. The sleeves were made out of the same thin material as the top and created a false mantle that drifted delicately behind her. 

 

  
“Well, good to know that we can go shopping together.” Allura said with a wink.

 

Lance tried to school his expression, but failed miserably and they both began to giggle. 

 

“I finally tracked down one of those blasted—oh, you’ve stopped one.” Shiro came up behind Lance with two flutes of champagne in his hand.

 

“Thank you, dear.” Allura accepted the glass of champagne from Shiro. 

 

His eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw Lance. “I didn’t know you’d be working tonight too. Keith’s around somewhere I think, but maybe they stuck him in the kitchen.”

 

“No, he’s on the floor too. But they’re working on getting the signature cocktails up on line for dispersal.” Lance said, although he was taking a long look at Shiro.

 

The older man’s black mop of hair had been slicked back with product. The shock of white in his hair was like a streamline across the hood of a fast moving car. His tuxedo jacket perfectly matched the pinkish creme of Allura’s dress. It was perfectly tailored and made Shiro look like a Bond character—or maybe a Bond himself. Lance was pretty sure it was name brand. 

 

“Signature cocktails?” Shiro tilted his head and Lance reminded himself firmly that now was not the time to be taken with how adorable Shiro was. 

 

“Yes, we’ll be serving Mary Pickfords and French 75’s soon for your enjoyment, oh valued guest.” Lance lowered his head in a nod and winked flirtatiously to Shiro. 

 

Shiro choked slightly on the sip of champagne he took. He wiped at his mouth and cleared his throat.

 

“I have no idea what those are, but I’m assuming they’re period appropriate.” Shiro said, trying to recover himself. 

 

“My recommendation would be that the French 75 is a good way to start the evening. But by the end, you might be wanting more the Mary Pickford.”

 

“Thanks for the heads up.” 

 

Allura put her hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Be sure to enjoy yourself tonight Lance. It might be a job, but it’s still a social event.”

 

“I will. Especially now that I can bother Keith.” Lance waggled his eyebrows. 

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Allura gently put her hand in the crook of Shiro’s elbow. They turned to walk into the fray of socialization when Allura stopped.

 

“And Lance?”

 

“Hm?” Lance halted, holding his tray out for another passing patron that reached for his collection of champagne flutes.

 

“If any of the guests give you any kind of trouble, you tell me immediately. All right?”

 

“Allura that’s hardly—“

 

“Lance.” Her gaze cut him off. “I mean it.”

 

He chewed on his response for a second. Then a relieved smile fell onto his lips. “I will.”

 

“Good.” She gave Shiro a squeeze and he covered her hand with his. “We’ll see you again for a couple of French 75’s then.”

 

Lance didn’t get a chance to respond before another guest grabbed a couple glasses from his tray. 

 

——————

 

Keith sat nursing a half empty water bottle. His tie was loosened and apron tossed across the back of his chair. Lance lugged a couple bulging trash bags into the back room.

 

“Hey—“ he said a little breathlessly. “Mind helping me with these?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Keith pushed himself up from the chair and grabbed one of the bags. He easily hefted it over his shoulder and led the way to the trash room.

 

It was a few rooms down from the kitchen and stationed in front of a large freight elevator. There was a small battalion of push carts filling with trash bags. They were labeled as recycle, burn, or landfill. 

 

“Any idea?” Keith asked, standing in front of the bins. 

 

“Burn.” Lance grunted as he drug the bag behind him.

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re going to rip the bag.” He tossed the bag in his hands into one of the burn bins. Then he walked over to Lance who stood with his hands on his knees.

 

“This shit’s heavy man.” He panted. “Give me a break!”

 

Keith just snorted and grabbed the bag by the neck. Without an ounce of strain he lifted the bag from the ground and swung it into the same bin. With a flourish, he dusted his hands together and gave Lance a smug look.

 

“Any other _heavy_ things you need help with?”

 

“If I wasn’t exhausted right now I would punch you I swear.” Lance groaned.

 

Keith waved him off and walked back in to the main room. He took off his vest and hung it on a hanger. Lance joined him and did the same. They placed their vests on the rack labeled with a sheet of paper that read “worn.” The two joined the small crew of leftover helpers in the elevator down to the main lobby. 

 

It had cleared out by the time the event ended. Now coming up on 10pm, it was entirely empty save for a single night clerk and a security guard posted at the front door. Lance and Keith dropped off their staff badges with the night clerk who wished them safe travels home. He also gave them unlabelled envelopes with their pay for the evening’s work.

 

The sun set during the event, throwing gorgeous golds and pinks across the entire studio. Now the streets had a dull glow of yellow from the streetlights. Lance looked up and checked if he could see any stars. It was as any other Los Angeles night—orange across smog and no sky to be seen. He whipped his jacket onto his shoulders and shoved the envelope into an inner pocket.

 

“Well, good work tonight. See ya Tuesday.” Lance said as he turned to go down the street.

 

“Wait, do you live nearby?” Keith asked. He pulled at the cuffs of his jacket and pulled a pair of fingerless gloves out of his pocket.

 

“No, I’m out in Pasadena.”

 

“What, you’re gonna walk there?” Keith snickered.

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “No, dummy, I’m taking a bus.”

 

“I’ll give you a ride.” He tilted his head towards the parking lot.

 

“You mean like—“ Lance swallowed hard. “Like on your bike?”

 

“No, on my magic carpet. _Yes_ on my bike. Now c’mon.” 

 

Lance followed dumbstruck. When Keith had rolled up to the game session a few weeks ago on his bike, Lance nearly shit himself. It was just so cool and incredibly unreal. Honestly it was like Keith rolled right off the set of an action film—or a Power Rangers shoot. Could’ve gone either way.

 

The bike was parked under a light in the parking lot. A few cars were scattered here and there from patrons who had acquired other means of returning home for the evening. Keith unclipped the helmet from the bike and held it out to Lance. 

 

“Here.” He said, pulling his keys from his jacket pocket. “Should fit.”

 

Lance turned the helmet over in his hands. The black helmet had streaks of red and white around the sides that matched the bike. He flicked the face shield a couple times idly. 

 

“Can this thing even hold two people? It won’t just like, snap in half?”

 

Keith gave him a look that said it was a stupid question. “It’s a sports bike, not a tricycle.” He swung his leg over the bike and Lance groaned internally. 

 

Keith laid over the bike like it was a usual bed fellow. His spine curved until it looked like he melded into the bike. His form changed as Lance was watching it happen. Keith had shed his mortal skin and become the motorbike beneath him. When he moved his hand to put the key in the ignition, Lance didn’t miss the way Keith gently caressed the bike with his fingertips. It sent a shiver down his spine. 

 

_Paint me like one of your French girls_ had nothing on what was happening here.

 

He turned the key and the ignition squealed for a second before lowering into a rumbling purr. Keith sat up, looking expectantly at Lance.

 

“You getting on or what?” 

 

Lance shoved his face into the helmet and quickly secured the straps under his chin. He scrambled onto the bike, not nearly as graceful as Keith.

 

“Where do I put my feet?” He asked.

 

Keith groaned. “Have you ever ridden a bike before?”

 

“A bicycle, yeah, of course.”

 

“Oh great.” Keith turned in his seat so he could look at Lance. “Feet go there.”

 

Lance put his feet on the smaller pegs towards the back of the bike. He felt a little gangly on the bike but tried to ignore it. “And my hands?”

 

“When we start moving, hold on to me.” Keith revved the engine and she responded immediately. Lance felt the thrum of the engine ripple through his body. It was weird but exciting at the same time.

 

“And the crash course to riding—“ Keith began. Lance watched the corner of Keith’s mouth lift into a private grin. “You have to trust me.”

 

Lance struggled to swallow around the dryness suddenly in his mouth. He nodded and flicked the face shield down. Keith turned around and pushed the bike forward with his feet as he twisted on the throttle. Lance fisted his hands into the sides of Keith’s shirt, wrinkling the white button-down. They turned onto the streets before Keith made his way onto the freeway. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be wearing a helmet?” Lance shouted over the wind.

 

“What?” Keith turned his head slightly. They zipped down the road, moving around cars as they did. 

 

Lance leaned closer. “A helmet!”

 

“Don’t make me crash and I’ll be fine!” Keith maneuvered around a semi truck and Lance snuck his hands around Keith’s waist. He was surprised by the hard definition of his stomach even through the shirt. Maybe he was closer than need be, but Keith didn’t say anything. 

 

The streetlights blurred into a barely segmented line. Lance was nearly entranced. He felt the wind whipping at his shoulders. The bike rumbled beneath him and for a moment it was just them. Keith moved confidently down the freeway, like water down a well-worn stream. His knees fit into the notch of Keith’s perfectly. When Keith shifted gears, the bike barely stalled or jumped. Lance could tell that Keith loved this bike—maybe more than he loved himself.

 

Somehow the trip to Pasadena had never gone by as fast as it did on Keith’s bike. It might have been the time of night on a Wednesday or the route Keith took. Either way, it was over in a flash and Lance was a little put out about it. They rolled to a stop in front of Lance’s apartment building. Keith turned the bike off and steadied it with both feet on the ground. Lance slid off and undid the helmet. Keith sniggered when Lance handed him the helmet back.

 

“Nice hair.”

 

Lance’s hands went up to smooth out his helmet hair. He felt a few unruly tufts curling awkwardly under his fingers and he fought to tame them again. Keith rested the helmet on the bike, his hand curling lazily over top of it.

 

“Thanks for the ride.” Lance grumbled.

 

“Don’t mention it.” Keith’s mouth tightened and he cast his gaze down. He tapped his fingers on the helmet. He moved to speak, thought better of it, and pushed his head into the helmet instead. Lance watched Keith deftly secure the straps of the helmet, loosening them slightly from Lance’s adjustments. He turned the key in the ignition and nodded to Lance. He rolled away a few feet and stopped at the stop sign at the edge of the parking lot. 

 

Lance walked up to the door of the apartment building and fussed with his keys. He squinted in the dim light above the door to find the right one. When he pushed it in to the key and turned, he forced the door open. Then he heard the sound of an engine revving and looked behind him. Keith was just now turning out of the parking lot to the complex. Had he waited for Lance to get into the building before leaving? Just in case? 

 

For whatever reason, that brought a small curl of a smile to Lance’s lips. He pushed into the building and thudded up the stairs.

 

——————

 

Baristas moved here and there through the small bistro. The book in Shay’s hand was small, the cover well worn and creased. Turning the pages was silent among the sound of the bistro. She took a sip of her orange tea, the steam fogging her glasses for a moment. A shadow passed over her book and she looked up as Hunk swooped by.

 

“Sorry, sorry—“ He shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the chair across from Shay. “Ran into a hitch on the upper arms of this stupid Caliber’s rear end today. The whole thing was way out of alignment.”

 

She gave him a smile and closed her book. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Hunk returned her smile and leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips. He eyed the book now resting on the table. 

 

“ _Horseradish_?”

 

“It’s quite good _._ ” She reached out and wiped at a smudge of grease on his cheek. “You missed some dear.”

 

He cursed under his breath. “Let me see if I can get a little more of this off my hands.” 

 

When he returned a few minutes later, Shay had acquired menus for the two of them. Hunk accepted it from her and sat down. They ordered not a moment later, the waitress bringing Hunk a glass of unsweet tea. He squeezed the lemon into the drink and stirred it. 

 

“So—“ he exhaled and relaxed into his seat. His smile to her was fond. “Hey.”

 

She grinned, eyes sparkling in the warm lighting. “Hey.”

 

“How was the library today?” he asked.

 

“Fairly uniform. We got some books in for the summer series that I’m excited about.” 

 

“What books?”

 

The waitress put down an order of artichoke dip in the middle of the table. Shay nodded towards her. 

 

“We’re doing a unit on LGBT+ representation in literature this summer.”

 

Hunk raised his eyebrows. “Saucy!”

 

“Yes, well, it’s for the high school group. I think they can handle it.”

 

“What are you having them read?” He asked around a bite of dip laden pita bread.

 

“I managed to get my hands on some contemporary literature. We’ll be reading three books and one play.” She pulled a list from her purse. 

 

She handed the scrap of paper over to Hunk and he held it to the candle in the middle of the table to read it easier. 

 

“ _Smoketown, The Devourers, When the Moon was Ours,_ and _Angels In America_?” He handed the note back to her. 

 

“All the novels were written within the last five years or so and the authors are all people of color. But _Angels In America: Millennium Approaches_ is just a personal favorite of mine.”

 

Hunk hummed thoughtfully. “They all sound really interesting. Can I borrow them when you’re done?”

 

“Certainly.” She nodded. “As long as you promise not to drop them in the bath.”

 

“That only happened to one book!”

 

She gave him a pointed look. “You did it three times.”

 

“But to the same book.” 

 

Shay laughed softly, covering her mouth with her hand. “Which is why I don’t lend you hardbacks anymore.”

 

Hunk opened his mouth to rebuttal but the waitress came with their food. She set down a large Greek salad in front of Shay and a bread-bowl of steaming french onion soup before Hunk. 

 

“Anything else I can get you two?”

 

“Not right now, thank you.” Hunk shook his head.

 

The waitress clapped her hands in front of her. “All righty then! Enjoy your food!” She whisked back into the crowd of the bistro.

 

“How about your research?” Hunk asked, a string of cheese stretching between his mouth and spoon.

 

Shay put the forkful of salad back into the bowl and shook her head. “It’s great. We’re finally making headway. But none of my colleagues seem able to set aside time to write a good report. Of course, they know how and they can eke one out if they must.”

 

“It’s just not to your likings?”

 

“How are we supposed to maintain funding on the project if no one can put together a proper display board?”

 

Hunk reached across and blanketed his hand over hers. “If the results are there, that’s all you need.”

 

“Thank you.” She turned her hand over and squeezed his softly. “Although we both know that isn’t true. Sponsors need results done in easy to read bar graphs and statistics written in categorically colored ink.”

 

“If only we knew someone who had a degree in Graphic Design and Visual Marketing with access to a professional grade printer.” He said sarcastically, looking off into space like he was thinking hard.

 

“I would rather not ask Allura for her help on this if I don’t have to.” Shay pinched his hand playfully. “She’s got her hands full enough as is with the bakery.”

 

He withdrew his hand and shrugged. “I’m just saying—we’ve got the resources so we should use them. Besides, she would be more than happy to help.”

 

“I know, I know. I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

They finished their meals and grabbed a creme brûlée to split. 

 

“And how are we doing the check tonight?” The waitress asked when she dropped the dessert off.

 

“Just one, please.” Hunk said quickly. 

 

The waitress smiled. “Very good. I’ll get that right out to you.”

 

When she walked off to the waitress station, Shay looked at Hunk. “You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“Can’t a guy spoil his girlfriend every now and then?” He grinned. “Besides, you picked up groceries this week so it’s the least I can do.”

 

She cracked into the creme brûlée with her spoon. “Don’t overextend yourself okay? I’ve got the steadier income.”

 

“If things get tight I can pick up extra shifts at the garage.” He brought a spoonful of the cream to his mouth. 

 

“Hunk, we’ve talked about this. You worry about finishing school and I’ll worry about the finances.”

 

He sighed, the spoon hanging from his mouth. “It doesn’t feel right letting you buy everything.”

 

“You pay your part of the rent, that’s all I ask.”

 

“Fine. But once I’m done with school we split everything 50/50. No more you paying all the cell phone bill or most of the car insurance. Okay? Deal?”

 

Her smile was good-natured. “Deal.”

 

“Good.” Hunk scooped up another bite. “Pidge already gives me crap that you’re like a Sugar Momma.”

 

Shay laughed openly at that. “I _do_ enjoy spoiling you.”

 

“Shay!” 

 

She laughed again, Hunk’s blush only darkening on his cheeks.

 

——————

 

_Gathering all your things, you leave for the mysterious land of Barovia. After much discussion you decide to forgo chartering horses and make your way on foot. A fog is on the ground and even the rising sun does little to clear it away. You see only a few travelers on the Old Svalich Road. There is a point, as you’re surrounded by giant trees whose branches claw at the mist, that you feel deep in your being how alone you are. Black pools of water stand like dark mirrors in and around the muddy roadway. It’s easy to think that if you stepped in one you could get devoured._

 

_ Five hours seem to pass all at once and yet the journey could easily have been days. The fog spills out of the forest to swallow up the road behind you. Ahead, jutting from the impenetrable woods on both sides of the road, are high stone buttresses looming gray in the fog. Huge iron gates hang on the stonework. Dew clings with cold tenacity to the rusted bars. Two headless statues of armed guardians flank the gate, their heads now lying among the weeds at their feet. They greet you only with silence. _

 

_The gates swing open as you approach, hinges screeching in protest. They’re tall and wide enough to allow wagons through. In fact, the damp yet packed earth shows indentations which tell to frequent passage of such vehicles._

 

“How inviting.” Tessele mumbled.

 

Kairon pulled his hood tighter around his face. “Let’s get this over with.”

 

“Stay on your toes.” Merric said, adjusting his shield strapped to his back.

 

Merric and Valtyra led the group. Kairon was right behind them with Wrenn and Tessele in the middle. Aseir brought up the rear.

 

“I’m liking this less and less.” He hissed, eyes darting around nervously. 

 

As Aseir walked through the gates, the ground began to shake. Aseir clutched tightly at his dragon pole and Tessele’s hand went straight to her hip where her light crossbow hung. The gates closed with a loud, metallic clang.

 

“Huh,” Wrenn said. “I wonder if there are pressure plates that activate the gates.” He squinted towards the wrought iron construction. 

 

“Now isn’t really the time.” Tessele ruffled the mop of brown hair that poked out of the cloth headband on Wrenn’s head. He glared at her and snapped out from underneath her.

 

“There’s _always_ time for tinkering.” 

 

“Let’s keep moving!” Valtyra called from where she and Merric had gone ahead. Tessele, Wrenn, and Aseir trotted to catch up. 

 

Wrenn and Aseir moved into the middle of the group while Tessele and Kairon fell into the back. 

 

“I don’t like this place.” Kairon whispered. He kept glancing around them and behind them. “We haven’t seen anyone in hours.”

 

“I mean, it’s not like this is a well-known place.” Tessele shrugged. “We’ll just do the job and get out. Don’t have to take a vacation here.”

 

Kairon frowned and looked at Tessele. “Aren’t you worried—“ He suddenly gagged and slapped his hand over his mouth. 

 

Valtyra coughed up ahead. “Oh my—what _is_ that?”

 

“That’s—“ Kairon struggled through his words. “That’s death.”

 

“You mean like, an animal?” Tessele looked between everyone. “Or something else?”

 

“I’m not sure.”

 

“Should we—?” Aseir asked.

 

“I’ll go. Stay here.” Kairon said, with a pointed look towards Tessele.

 

Tessele scoffed. “As if! The last time you went sneaking off somewhere by yourself we had to break you out of a bugbear stronghold! Not happening.”

 

“I didn’t—“

 

“You absolutely did!”

 

Kairon’s mouth tightened in displeasure. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second then sighed. “Don’t fall behind.”

 

“I won’t.” Tessele said with a smirk.

 

“Don’t go too far.” Merric said, coming up to rejoin the group. “If you get in trouble, don’t stick it out. Call for us. All right?”

 

“We will.” She nodded and then they shifted into the underbrush.

 

_ It takes about fifteen minutes for you to follow the scent back to its origin. The foul scent leads you to a human corpse half buried in the underbrush about fifteen feet from the road. The young man appears to be a commoner. His muddy clothes are torn and raked with claw marks. Crows have been at the body, which is surrounded by the paw prints. The man has obviously been dead for several days. He holds a crumpled envelope in one hand. _

 

Kairon carefully grabbed the envelope and opened it up. Covering her mouth with a scarf, Tessele knelt down to examine the body.

 

“Looks like they’ve got an animal problem.” Kairon said, glancing at the body.

 

“These marks—“ Tessele pointed to the claw marks that cut all across the body. “They’re huge. And too concise. Whatever did this knew what it was doing. And it’s weird that whatever killed him didn’t eat him. That’s not a wild animal.”

 

“So you think something killed him just to kill him?”

 

“I can’t be sure.” She shook her head. “What does the letter say?” 

 

She stood up and moved to read over Kairon’s shoulder as he opened the letter up. As they ripped the paper of the envelope open, a lone wolf howled off in the forest. Kairon glanced up at the sound.

 

“I think we know what killed him.” he mumbled, turning his eyes back down to the letter.

 

 

> Hail thee of might and valor
> 
>  
> 
> I, the Burgomaster of Barovia, send you honor—with despair. My adopted daughter, the fair Ireena Kolyana, has been these past nights bitten by a vampyr. For over four hundred years, this creature has drained the life blood of my people. Now, my dear Ireena languishes and dies from an unholy wound caused by this vile beast. He has become too powerful to conquer.
> 
>  
> 
> So I say to you, give us up for dead and encircle this land with the symbols of good. Let holy men call upon their power that the devil may be contained within the walls of weeping Barovia. Leave our sorrows to our graves, and save the world from this evil fate of ours.
> 
>  
> 
> There is much wealth entrapped in this community. Return for your reward after we are all departed for a better life.
> 
>  
> 
> Kolyan Indirovich
> 
> Burgomaster

 

 

“Wait. Indirovich? That’s the same guy from the other letter. That Arrigal gave us.” Tessele held her hand out for the letter. She inspected it for a second. “These aren’t the same handwriting.”

 

He knelt down for a second and inspected the body to see if there was anything else on it. “Nothing, not even a copper piece on him.”

 

“He must have been in a hurry.” Tessele put the letter into her Bag of Holding.

 

Another howl went into the air, joined by a second wolf. 

 

“I think I know why.” Kairon grumbled. “Let’s get back before those get any closer.”

 

“Fine by me.” 

 

They turned and went back between the trees, Tessele melding herself to the shadows.

 

———------

 

“There’s definitely something going on here.” Pidge said. 

 

“Yeah,” Hunk mumbled, “Nothing good.”

 

“We’re already here.” Lance took a swig of the rum and coke Shiro had made him. “We might as well go in and see what’s happening.”

 

“Besides, that second note said there was _much wealth entrapped in the community_.” Pidge squinted at the printed note in their hand. “Let’s just get rid of whatever is messing things up around here, get a reward, and leave.”

 

Shiro cleared his throat. “While I’m not in complete agreement for the reasons, I do think the people here need help.”

 

“But does it have to be our help?” Keith grumbled. He’d been a little grumpier since they discovered the body. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Lance elbowed him playfully. “Not up to the task big guy?”

 

He glared back at him. “I don’t like this place.”

 

“We should help them.” Allura spoke up. She reached across the table and tapped near Keith’s hand. She was careful not to touch him and Lance noticed this acutely. “If it gets to be too much for us, we’ll get out. Okay?”

 

Keith still looked unconvinced. He clicked his tongue and shrugged—a sign of acquiescence. 

 

“All right, let’s go.” Shiro declared. He looked back towards Coran who sat expectantly at the head of the table. “We continue down the road towards the village.”

 

Coran nodded his head, looking down at some notes in front of him.

 

“You begin to walk down the path. The sounds of wolves howling grows distant behind you, but it’s easy to realize there were more wolves there than you previously thought. It’s nearly an hour down the road before you notice any change. Tall shapes begin to loom out of the dense fog that surrounds everything. The muddy ground underfoot gives way to slick, wet cobblestone. The tall shapes become recognizable as village dwellings. The windows of each house stare out from pools of blackness. No sound cuts the silence except for mournful sobbing that echoes through the streets from a distance.”

 

———------

 

Tessele stopped in her tracks. Kairon was the first to notice, turning in his stride to look at her.

 

“What are you doing? Keep up.” 

 

She frowned. “Don’t you hear that?”

 

“Another creepy note for another creepy place.”

 

“It sounds like a woman—she’s crying.” An expression of heartbreak fell across Tessele’s face. She turned towards the sound and took a step forward as if pulled by an unseen force. Aseir, standing next to her, grabbed the crook of her elbow. He shook his head when Tessele looked at him. 

 

“We can’t get distracted. If there’s something we can do for her, we will. But we need to figure out what’s going on here before we can help anyone.” He said softly. 

 

She let out a soft huff of breath through her nose and nodded. Although she moved to rejoin the group, she glanced once more towards the wails that drifted in the air like a wraith. 

 

“Our best bet is going to be a tavern of some kind. Everyone keep their eyes peeled.” Merric said, glancing at a nearby sign hanging over the shambled remains of what might have been a business at one time. 

 

Merric and Valtyra took the front of the group, working their way through the town in search for a tavern or inn. It was easy enough as there was only one main road into the town. In what appeared to be the center of town was a building.

 

_ A single shaft of light thrusts illumination into the main square, its brightness looking like a solid pillar in the heavy fog. Above the gaping doorway, a sign hangs precariously askew, proclaiming this to be the Blood of the Vine Tavern. _

 

_ Upon entering, you see it's not very busy. Despite being warm inside, there are few people seeking respite in the establishment. A lonely barkeep stands behind the bar idly wiping a glass with a dingy looking rag. He is barely tall enough for his chest to be over the bar. His hands work thoughtlessly on cleaning glasses, moving immediately to the next after completing one. Besides the barkeep there are four villagers within the establishment. Three women sit at a table near the door and nod to you all as you enter. They pay little mind to you however and go back to their drink and cards before them. _

 

As they passed, Kairon, Wrenn, and Tessele glanced at the three women at the table. Kairon didn’t recognize the type of card game they were playing and realizing it wasn’t some type of con continued forward. Wrenn was able to discern that it was some time of structured game with different set ups of the cards, but couldn’t recall any game that played as such. Tessele, however, was able to make out the pictures on the faces of the cards. They weren’t average playing cards, instead seeming like stylized tarot cards of some kind. She didn’t recognize the set up as a type of reading though and thought maybe the cards had been repurposed as playing cards. 

 

Her wayward glance was noticed by one of the women sitting at the table. The woman gave her a warm smile that Tessele carefully returned. She dipped her head and closed her eyes respectfully before catching up to the group. They were about to take a table in the middle of the tavern when the last patron in the tavern called out to them.

 

“Weary travelers, come join me. Let me trade you wine for stories. Please, come sit.” He said good-naturedly. Warily, everyone came over and sat around the table with him.

 

“Welcome to the village of Barovia, although I’m curious as to how you found our humble home.” He said. He offered his hand to Merric. “I am Ismark Kolyanovich, it is good to see fresh faces among the dreary fog.”

 

Merric took his hand, the two sharing a solid handshake. “It’s good to receive such an open welcome. I wasn’t sure we would be met with as much joy as it appears we are.”

 

“Admittedly we are a tight and somewhat cloistered community. It is not often that we see outsiders. Do not take it personally if people don’t open up to you.” Ismark gave an apologetic nod of his head.

 

“Well met Ker Kolyanovich.” Valtyra gave a small curtsy before taking a seat.

 

Ismark bowed his head, sweeping his hand towards the now filled seats. “And to you Kerina—“

 

“Valtyra.”

 

“Kerina Valtyra.” He smiled again. “What brings you all to our little village?”

 

“We received a summons.” Valtyra offered. 

 

His brow raised quizzically. “Oh? A summons of what sort?”

 

“A cry for help.” Tessele spoke up. She reached into her bag and pulled out the letter. “From one Burgomaster Kolyan Indirovich.”

 

“The Burgomaster?” Now Ismark’s expression dropped into confusion. “He had told me of no such plans. Might I see that for a moment?”

 

“You know the Burgomaster?” Tessele asked, handing over the letter. 

 

“I should hope so. The man is my father.” He murmured as he opened and looked over the letter. His face paled even more so as he read it. 

 

“I’m afraid you’ve been tricked. This note was not written by the Burgomaster. This must be one of that monster’s schemes.”

 

“Monster?” Kairon hissed. The yellow of his eyes flashed with anger and fear all at once. When Tessele glanced over at him, Kairon had schooled his expression back to one of controlled annoyance. 

 

Ismark glanced up and looked past the group towards the three women playing cards at the table. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. 

 

“The master of Castle Ravenloft—Strahd von Zarovich.” He angrily pushed the letter away. “Although that letter was a fake—some kind of lure I assume to draw you in—there is a danger here.”

 

“Then it was all a trick?” Kairon’s voice was still heated. “Does this Ireena Kolyana even exist?”

 

“Oh, she is very real and the danger towards her is ever present.” Ismark dropped a couple copper pieces on the table. “Kerina Ireena Kolyana is my adopted sister. And she seems to have gained the unwanted attention of Ker von Zarovich. Please, I beg of you to assist me in ridding our town of this madman.”

 

Merric held his hand out to keep the party still. He pinned Ismark with an icy stare. “We want to help you, but I won’t put this party in danger. As of now we have been tricked and I apologize for not putting my full trust in this whole thing.”

 

Valtyra began to protest, but Merric sent her an imploring look. She noticed the faint tremor in his outstretched hand. 

 

“I cannot lose my family again, Valtyra.” He whispered. She wrapped her hands around his and brought his knuckles to her, gently kissing his knuckles. 

 

“I understand your resistance.” Ismark said softly. The urgency was still in his voice but it wasn’t as aggressive as it had been previously. “Your proof will be with my sister. I can lead you to her. If after speaking with Ireena doesn’t persuade you to our cause, then you are free to go about as you wish.”

 

“We have to gather evidence before we can make a conclusion.” Wrenn said with a shrug. He stood from his chair, adjusting the tool belt around his waist. “Let’s go check it out.”

 

“The second things go south, we bolt.” Aseir nodded, also rising from his chair.

 

“We’ll see if we even make it that long.” Kairon narrowed his eyes at Ismark, trying to read him. But he also stood. Merric and Valtyra weren’t far behind. 

 

Tessele was the last to rise. She put the letter back in her bag, fingers cresting against the letter they’d found on the body. She grit her teeth and looked up to find Kairon looking back at her. He gave her a small tilt of his head, dark hair falling over his horns. She chewed on the inside of her cheek then rose. 

 

The group started to follow Ismark out of the Blood of the Vine. Kairon hung back with Tessele as they wound through the empty tavern. 

 

“Do you think the other letter was written by the actual Burgomaster?” She asked.

 

“I sure hope not.” He whispered. He glanced at the women playing cards, noticing their movements had stalled slightly as they walked passed. 

 

“Why not?” Tessele moved closer to him so as to keep her voice down. Their hands brushed lightly between them. 

 

He glanced at her then back in front of him. “Because then we’re dealing with a vampyr and Traveller knows what else.”

 

A cold shiver crept up the back of Tessele’s neck. She turned as Kairon held the door open for her. A whisper of movement slithered near the back of the tavern. But as soon as she spotted it, it vanished. Her chest tightened in fear as her eyes darted across the now empty room. She landed on the woman who had nodded at her earlier. There was a wicked gleam in her eyes as she smiled at Tessele. 

 

“Be careful out there dear,” the woman said with a melodic voice, “Fog’s rolling in.”

 

Tessele’s mouth tightened and she hurried out behind Kairon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Catch exclusive behind the scenes content and extras for the series at its tumblr !

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Keep an eye out for updates every week on Sundays! Also catch up with extra, behind-the-scenes stuff on tumblr! You can find all the bonus goodies over at [vldcrithappens](http://vldcrithappens.tumblr.com/) !


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